


Cursebreaker

by Merwild



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Battle, Character Death, F/M, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 02:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11476365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merwild/pseuds/Merwild
Summary: This fanfiction is set at the end of an alternative ACOWAR, the story I was expecting after reading acomaf. Keep in mind that in my head the war lasted many years, that many things happened before this scene and that most of the events of ACOWAR didn’t happen or happened differently. This fanfiction is what I imagined for one character in particular after I was half spoiled.





	Cursebreaker

_They used to call me Feyre Cursebreaker. I guess the amount of courage I showed and the sacrifices I made that day under the mountain were enough to earn me the title. As if a name could heal me._

_But the war… This endless war._

_My courage and the sacrifice I made for my people on that battlefield earned me no name. It only cost me my soul._

_Forever._

 

The entire world has turned into an ochre mist with the spattering of blood and flashes of magic. The carnage was so heavy the sun could not penetrate it.

Every step was leading me to death. One after the other. Every step seemed to sink my ankles deep in the mud and blood. Their blood. Hybern and Prythian striking their last blow before the end of this world as we knew it. This war had started long ago, so long ago, but a part of me still remembered a semblance of peace. As I severed into flesh and bones, finding my way through the battlefield, I hung on to those days, to the feeling of a fragile safety and stability. It had been real. I needed to believe that it would come back, that the lives I had been taking for years – that I was taking right now – were meant for more than just to destroy the last scraps of my sanity.

This is when I lost it. A fragment of my being froze so instantly that my opponent’s sword almost found its way to my throat. I stepped back and clung to my chest, wishing my hand could pass through the leather of my armor so I could seize my heart with bare hands to soothe it. I couldn’t lose focus now. My life depended on it. The cold was spreading through my heart, my arms. I blocked the soldier’s blow, the violence of his attack echoing through my bones, in my whole body. As my legs failed me, my magic rushed out of me, an answer to my distress. The pure golden light hit him right in the face, burning his skin and blinding him as surely as if he had flown too close to the sun. I didn’t hesitate and my blade disappeared into his chest, once, then twice. I didn’t wait for him to collapse as I fell to my knees, out of breath.

The cold invading me wasn’t painful but it was exhausting, paralyzing, and it had a name: Rhys. I couldn’t put more words on this phenomenon for I had never experienced it before. The sensation was unsettling and oddly familiar, like the feel of his absence, of his fear. Danger.

“Rhys,” I whispered with my own voice as I was calling for him through the bond.

The answer back pushed me facedown to the ground and my screaming burned my throat like red-hot iron. Covering the raging noise of the fighting around, the sole growl of the world under my body responded to me. Deafening and unforgiving.

Before I could proceed and attempt to fight back, it all stopped. I was still breathing. I could smell the blood, I could feel the weapon in my hand, its shape and weight pressing into me. I opened my eyes to find the same mist moving with the endless battle. I was alive, but Rhysand… My first reflex was to call for him again. I needed to hear his voice. But the possibility of experiencing what I just felt terrified me, another reaction like that would leave me unable to stand on my feet ever again.

Quickly, aware that I was exposing the back of my neck to anyone who would pass by, I stood on my knees. I looked around, like I could see my mate, like he was coming for me to prove that I had no reason to worry. Yet, after years of war, worrying was what I did best. As expected, he was nowhere to be seen, but I knew he needed me. His presence and absence were everywhere around me. Inside me.

“Rhys,” I dared to call out again, only with my voice this time.

A vain hope. No answer of any kind. The cold was still here though, spreading, devouring one by one every spark of strength and magic. At this pace, I’d soon be completely defenseless in the middle of the bloodiest battle of our time. No time to waste.

Making myself as small as possible, I focused of the bond, never using it to reach out to Rhys but only to draw a path to him. The effort itself made my head spin.

“Shit!” I grunted through my teeth as I stopped walking to regain my balance. The bond had never been blurrier but it was here stretching in front of me… and in every direction.

What the hell? No!

Concentrate. I had to concentrate.

It was like the bond was wrapping around me. I had to keep going. I tried to listen to the fighting, to recognize the clash my mate’s sword somewhere, anywhere. All I heard was the rushed steps of a group of Hybern soldiers running in my direction.

No, no, no! Not now!

I stepped back, raised my sword in front of me but my arm was so stiff the hilt almost escaped my hand. They kept running and coming at me, ready to end me. They were close, closer.

“NO!” I shouted.

My shield erupted, pushing them back. Not enough, I thought as I realized that they were all still standing on their feet, swords already covered with blood – my people and allies’ blood – still up above their head. The cold was making its work through me and this shield was all I had left.

I staggered back, urging my hand to raise my weapon again. It didn’t obey me and once again, I fell on my knees.

“It’s been a long fight,” the soldier in front of me said. There was no hate in his voice. He didn’t know me, didn’t recognize me. Right now, right here, there was no High Lady. No reason to loathe me more than anyone else. He looked so tired and jaded, eager to put an end to this war by any means necessary. I couldn’t blame him on that matter even though every piece of me wished he was already dead and cold at my feet so I could keep looking for Rhysand. The soldier slightly nodded, as to confirm a silent question. “Let’s make it quick.”

“I agree.”

The voice was coming from behind them. That voice.

Mor.

They turned to face her, but they had barely time to wonder if she was friend or enemy. She jumped in the air, sword high and red, and cut in the mass in one heavy motion. Her blonde hair flew around her face as she took the five remaining males. I was too cold and exhausting to follow their dance in the mud and smoke. Mor was like a specter spinning between them. One after the other, her opponents fell until one of their swords reached her thigh. She didn’t cry out, only took a swift step back, her guard up. In front of her stood two soldiers, just two ordinary fae fighting above the dead bodies of their comrades. Brothers in arms.

I could only see their shadows, three silhouettes as still as statues facing death. Maybe I was useless but here stood a member of my family. I could have bet the soldiers already forgot I was right behind them.

Fighting back the ice and emptiness in my core, I raised my blade in silence and plunged it in the heel of one of the two soldiers, right through the thick leather of his boot. His screaming joined the others’ in this field of carnage and drew the attention of his friend long enough to give Mor the advantage. Despite the wound in her leg, the rotation of her body was flawless and she cut deep. Two moves. Both soldiers fell on the ground, their throats spitting up a fountain of blood.

“Are you alright?” she asked me as she knelt in front of me.

“No… Where’s Rhysand?”

There was no wound to be seen on me even though I was covered with blood. Not mine. So Mor put me back on my feet, her free hand under my armpit to keep me up.

“He told you to not go to him, Feyre,” she reminded me, like I could forget.

He had been strict about this before the battle this morning.

“ _You have to trust me,” he had said to me, his hand stroking my hair. “I can make it.”_

“ _You’ve already done so much,” I had told him, looking away from his veiled gaze only for a few seconds to take a worried look at his left shoulder, where the wound was still healing, even after so many years._

_I couldn’t get rid of the memory, of that massive boot crushing his joint, ripping the muscles there. The sound of it._

_Rhysand had caught my glance and had raised my chin, like he had done so many times since that day._

“ _Don’t go back there,” he had advised me._

“ _I want to promise you that I won’t join you, but it’s beyond my will.”_

“ _Of course, it is. You can’t stay away from me for two minutes, Feyre darling.”_

_An attempt of humor. He had tried to reassure me, to make the fear and concern disappear from his face._

“ _You used to be funnier,” I had answered. “Age is not making it any better.”_

“ _How cruel you are!”_

“ _I know this is not about us, Rhys. I know the future of our lands is the priority but… Tell me how to go against everything I am. I’ve been trying, you know that. How do I refuse to protect you?”_

“ _By protecting yourself, my love. I’m a part of you. This part that lives in you is the best part of me. If you die I die.”_

Before I had had the time to tell him that the opposite was also true, I had understood that the only way to put his mind at ease was to accept and promise. So, I had.

Right now, it was all different. He needed me and I knew that I had to be by his side before… There was no time to waste.

“I don’t fucking care what he said,” I swore, grabbing Mor’s collar as the cold started to clench viciously around my guts. “I have to…”

The wind brought it to us. A screaming, a short earthquake. Then the complains of hundreds of men. I looked away, following the tremor that was now followed by a chocking silence. Darkness on the horizon, darkness so impenetrable even the sun couldn’t chase. My heart missed a heartbeat and my sword escaped my grip.

“What is that?” Mor asked, staring at the distance, breathing heavily.

The look on her face… She knew just like I did.

“Rhys,” I murmured.

I pushed Mor away and struggled ahead as fast as I could, striding over the corpses at my feet. Mor tried the hold me back, saying something, but I escaped her and gathered the rest of my strength to run. I didn’t have the time to argue.

Rhysand.

I’d be too late.

Rhysand.

I ran and ran closer to the darkness, closer to the screaming.

Rhysand.

The soldiers around me were holding their shields up, hesitating… Illyrians.

I dived into the darkness, familiar, loving, caring and yet, corrupted.

Rhysand…

He was there, in his beast form, wings spread on each side of his massive shoulders. As black as night, violet eyes… no, not violet. White.

He was there, slicing the air before him, reducing the soldiers in front of him to pieces, soldiers wearing wings…

No. It couldn’t be true. I was… It was a nightmare. It wasn’t Rhys…

Killing his own men.

“Rhys,” I called him, my voice so weak in this rampage. He kept hitting and fighting, ending so many lives in one terrifying move of his talons. My mate, butchering his soldiers, his brothers. His court. “RHYS! STOP IT”

My voice busted forth, right to him, ignoring the darkness, the cold, this madness.

He turned his face to me and in an instant, his entire figure curled up, like a wolf accepts the domination of a bigger one. Slowly, his face came back to the one I knew. His eyes, still white, were begging, full of tears. I wasn’t hallucinating. He smiled at me as a tear ran down his face, washing away the dirty on its way.

“Feyre.”

A pleading. So weak, so raw and desperate.

I stumbled to him, the battlefield still wrapped in a thick night, and I grabbed his face in my palms. What was happening to him?

“Rhys,” I said, so many words and questions quietly finding him through that sole name.

“He got me. He got me, Feyre.”

“What?”

I couldn’t take my eyes off his. This white wasn’t right. I wanted to take it away, to bring Rhys back to his real self, the one who wouldn’t have attacked his own men. The rest of his body was still trapped between his fae and beast form, as if he was unable to turn back completely. His hands were shaking.

“It wasn’t him,” Rhys added, another tear falling on his cheek. “It wasn’t a simple trick. He was clever… What did I do?”

“I don’t understand. Rhys! What’s happening?”

It took him a moment to find his words. His eyes were staring at the dead Illyrians at our feet as if asking me if it was his doing. I had witnessed it and yet, I couldn’t believe this unbearable truth. When Rhys opened his mouth to speak, I had never been colder in my entire life.

“The King… He cursed me.”

“What? I…”

“The vision he sent to the battle… Adriata… The bastard wasn’t testing me. I ran into a trap.

“I don’t understand.”

His eyes found mine, circled with shadows, and he was suddenly accepting the words he pronounced next.

“The vision- it was a spell. A spell meant to bound me to the Cauldron, and… I ran through it.”

I couldn’t believe him. This couldn’t be true.

“No,” I muttered.

“Feyre…”

“No.”

“Feyre, listen…”

“I said no!”

I took a deep breath and tried to get myself together. This wasn’t the moment to doubt him. If all this nonsense was true, it explained why he had attacked his own men. This was the will of the King, the will of the Cauldron. Rhysand, my Rhysand, my loving mate would never have done that. Was I a horrible person to find the suffering on his face even worse to look at than the dead bodies we were stepping on?

I wouldn’t fail him.

“How do I free you?” I questioned him.

I was so weak. I understood now why all my strength and magic had been knocked down. If Rhys was bound to the Cauldron, the mating bond was obviously affected. Using it to contact him had caused the… The what? Had I heard the voice of the Cauldron while trying to reach Rhysand? Was our mating bond the reason why he was now able to resist the Cauldron’s domination? If this was the case then he just needed me by his side. Always.

I wouldn’t let him down.

Suddenly, echoing to my own exhaustion, Rhysand’s face turned to his beast form again and his arms stretched to attack, targeting his soldiers not far from us.

“Stop!” I ordered, terrified, delusional, but my voice wasn’t strong enough.

The power struck the Ilyrians like a rock falling from a mountain. Some fell on the ground, half of their skin ripped from their flesh but some escaped, flying fast away. As my eyes followed their quick escape, a familiar face appeared in the sky. His wings flapped with brutal constancy to keep him out of reach, but the look on Azriel’s face was clear: utter rage. He had just witnessed Rhysand’s last attack on his forces. Unlike me, he seemed to fully accept this reality.

None of the Illyrian dared to attack Rhys but I doubted Azriel would do the same. To protect everyone, Azriel would fight his brother. Rhys was still their High Lord, the most powerful high lord in history. But he wasn’t himself; he was a weapon now in the hand of the enemy. And I was the only one who knew.

“Az, stay away!”

An unbreakable order from his high lady. Rage turned to conflict in his eyes. I didn’t wait to make sure he would obey me, then I turned to my mate.

“Rhysand, enough!” and he flinched before me for I was also his High Lady.

I forced him to look at me, to hear me. The bond was still there, strong, but the King’s spell was now swirling around it, chocking it like a snake intent on its prey. Yet, Rhys came back to me, more tears in his eyes, aware of each life he took a few seconds ago amongst those who trusted him.

“Tell me what to do,” I begged him.

“You know what to do.”

“I don’t.”

A lie.

“Feyre, what’s happening?” Azriel asked, slowly flying down to the ground.

“Stay away!” I repeated.

In front of me, Rhysand’s eyes looked over my shoulder, to his friend. His brother. When his gaze turned back to mine, the determination I read in there took my breath away and only my love for him kept me from screaming in agony.

“You have to stop me, Feyre.”

I pushed away the enormity of his words. I would deny it until my last breath. There was another solution. It had to be.

“I… I have to go the Cauldron,” I told him in a rasping voice. “We have to destroy it now.”

I didn’t know how but I would find it and I would reduce this monstrosity to ashes and bring my mate back to normal.

“The moment you’ll leave me to go there, I’ll kill again,” he explained, struggling to swallow his tears. His hands closed on my arms, as much to hold onto me, as to stay on his feet. “I’ll kill them all.”

“Then come with me.”

An order. Once again, delusional. His entire body was shaking, his grip on my arms was painfully weak. None of us would be able to cross the battlefield. Yet we had too.

“Feyre.”

My sight was blurry behind my tears and I shook my head to chase them away. Nothing should break our eye contact or Rhys would attack one more time… until there was no one left. The perfect trap. Since Rhysand was the King’s biggest threat, the best way to defeat him was to make him an ally. A puppet. A tool.

“Feyre,” he repeated, pain on his beautiful features. “It will weaken the Cauldron.”

“No.”

“Listen to me, Feyre. The bond works both ways. If I disappear the Cauldron will be weakened.”

“I can’t. Don’t make me… I can’t, Rhys.”

“I’m not done talking, Feyre. Listen to me.” Every word was a dagger in my heart but I listened. “The king trapped me. He used my anger. My pride. He knew I would attack him that day, that I would fail, but he underestimated you. He knows there’s only one way to stop me and he thought that no one would be strong enough to do it. You can.”

“No,” I cried again.

It couldn’t be true. In a few seconds, I would wake up in Velaris, my lover’s arms around me. I would turn to kiss him and lose myself in his embrace, and this war, this nightmare would just be that. A nightmare. I couldn’t lose him. How could he not understand that?

“Feyre..”

“You told me to trust you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sorry? The entire world should be sorry for forcing him to go through that shit over and over. How many times did he have to endure this torment to save us all?

“I’m not that strong enough, Rhys. This is beyond my abilities.”

“It is not about us, that’s what you told me.”

I felt the presence of all our remaining forces and Azriel in my back. Worse, I could feel the absence of life right where it had been a few minutes ago. Rhys would destroy them all. Illyrians, fae, and humans. Azriel would try to stop him and he would die. No matter where Cassian was on the battlefield right now, this would also be his fate. If I didn’t stop Rhys, many more would die before anyone else was able to put an end to his wrath. His men would have no other choice but try to take him down, then Rhys would die too, in horrible pain. Or worse. He could survive and remain bound to the Cauldron forever.

It wasn’t about us. It was about our people. This bond between Rhys and the Cauldron was a curse, but with it the King had offered us a chance. My mate’s life would give us a chance.

Just a chance.

His life was worth so much more… but it was all we had and this war had lasted for too long.

It was a heavy price to pay and once again, Rhys was paying it, to save everyone.

One last time.

Salt on my tongue. More tears and despair melted in me.

“Will you wait for me?” I asked.

He knew what I meant. His face bathed in tears, he smiled at me.

“Forever.”

Without breaking eye contact, my hand run down the curve of my hip until my fingertips felt the hilt of my ash dagger. I had made up my mind but my body hesitated. Was it too much to ask for more time? I had so many things to tell him, so much love to give him. I was not ready to say goodbye. I never would be.

When my fist closed on my weapon, its weight almost dragged me to the floor. In front of me, Rhysand’s breath started to slow down, to relax. He was waiting for peace, a peace brought by his death, a peace that he could extend to the rest of the world.

I had never been shaking that hard. My throat constricted, with both my tears and vomit, threatening to choke me. Yet I kept raising my dagger, the move suddenly so familiar. Another nightmare from another life. This wasn’t under the mountain. Under the mountain was a bittersweet memory compared to this.

The point trembled an inch away from Rhysand’s chest. He didn’t look down. Was he afraid? Would I awake at last?

“I love you,” I said. “I love you. I love you. I love you…”

My voice turned into a murmur but I kept repeating it, drowning in my sorrow. He came closer, capturing my mouth with his, tasting me one last time, our eyes still open. I wanted to take him in my arms, to laugh with him, make love to him again, to hold his hand on the threshold of the world we had dreamt to offer to our people.

I wouldn’t.

“You’re mine,” he eventually answered back, and I realized how unaware he was of this truth.

I screamed and I screamed as I plunged the blade in his flesh, then in his heart. His grip on my shoulders tightened until it hurt, but I kept driving the dagger deeper, killing him, freeing him. We collapsed on the ground and he let go of my arms. He was still looking at me as I helped him to lie down on his wings.

A breath escaped his pale lips.

Darkness disappeared.

Silence followed my laments. No pulse. Unbearable.

“Rhys,” I called.

_Rhys_ , this time through the bond.

Nothing. Just like my heart was now full of nothing.

Dead.

My hands closed on each side of his face and I looked into his eyes. Violet again. Back to normal. Was he still there? The bond. The cauldron. My love.

My love was still alive, strong, vivid, raging in my veins. Rhysand couldn't… This wasn’t the end. He was there.

“Come back,” I told him. A caress on his cheek and I repeated it again. “Come back, Rhys. Come back.”

Again.

And again.

Dust fell under his eye, brought by the wind.

“No!” I cried as I pushed it away.

“Feyre,” a voice said.

“Rhys?”

Then I turned to find Azriel behind me. That was his voice. Not Rhysand’s. My agony grabbed me by my throat. It wouldn’t be Rhys ever again, I would never hear his voice again.

Rhys was gone.

I closed his eyes and let myself fall against him, hiding my face in the hollow of his neck, and I cried and cried.

My magic and strength came back. No bond to weaken me anymore.

Dead too.

Each second that followed was longer than an eternity. When I raised on my feet again, he was still the only truth that mattered to me. My mate.

I was ready to destroy it.

 

_I made his pain and sacrifice count. I fought the Cauldron that day. I died too that day because he was wrong. My sisters were wrong. The best part of him wasn’t in me. His absence only left more darkness inside me. This wasn’t his legacy._

_Rhys left a world in peace. He fought and protected._

_Hope was his legacy._

_If the sacrifice of my future cost me my soul, his saved everyone._


End file.
